Yep, she's another bleak and cheerless post ... move right along.
Sunday; heralded by the sun peaking it's cheery face through scudding clouds. Lovely it was until the neighbour tapped on the window to mention the power lines were causing a tree to smoulder. Not wanting a forest fire (been there, done that when I was fourteen) The electricity people are phoned ... as they were a week ago with the same complaint.
Today, however, it's Sunday, and automatic double time - please forgive the jaded tone of this post - and what better than a day out in the country for five highly paid - now doubly highly paid - electricians, and their 'gang boss'.
Ok, so I don't know he was a 'gang boss', but he seemed like the 'gang boss' in 'Cool Hand Luke'. They are called around 11.00am, they arrive around 13.00 and then they say: "Gotta take five substations off-line to work on yours". This is lingo for going to the pub. They come back a while later and do some work ... then, alas alack, the gang boss, who had sworn on a virtual stack of bibles the power would be back on in a couple of hours, knocks on the door.
They are 'missing' a vital piece of equipment. They have to travel forty miles to get it, and forty miles back and so we won't have power back on until 'later'.
"What's later?" I ask, naively. Stupid boy.
"You'll need candles." He grins, winningly, and leaves on his double bubble mission of mercy.
The power came back on around 22.30, and much cheering and blowing out of candles ensued.
Thank heavens I'm not paying them.